


Is it Christmas yet?

by legolastariel



Series: Dad and Da'y [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Christmas Presents, Daryl's a darling as usual, Daryl's version of Christmas songs, Feels, First Christmas, For Judith and for Daryl, Happy Dixon family, Humor, M/M, Some thoughtful and aawww moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolastariel/pseuds/legolastariel
Summary: Daryl never had a Christmas, so he makes sure Rick's and his children - especially little Judith - have one.There's a tree, presents, Christmas songs and Santa - but leave it to Daryl to have a Christmas the Dixon way. It's the third part of the "Dad and Da'y" series, after Nowhere Man and Bet ya. It can totally be read alone, but I do refer to the others, so reading them first is advisable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freefromthecocoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freefromthecocoon/gifts).



> This was a special request by freefromthecocoon last year, who made some "Daryl and Judith fluff" her Christmas wish. :-) I tried doing a manip this year (have mercy, I'm not very good with it) and would like to start your Christmas season off with this old story.  
> I'm working on a new one, too, but that's a little angsty and not done yet - if time and inspiration play along you'll hopefully have it before Xmas. :-)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks a lot to the wonderful stylepoints for helping with all my typos, grammar errors and the likes.

**_ Is it Christmas yet? _ **

 

Rick loved waking up in the morning. There was something magical about the  twilight right before the first rays of the rising sun peeked over the horizon. And he loved the state between sleeping and waking, when thoughts still moved slowly like someone walking through water, and the entire body still felt numb and heavy.   
He especially loved waking up to the sound of Daryl’s soft snoring by his side and the feeling of the warm, muscular body close by, an arm or leg protectively wrapped over him most times.   
It was just a minor thing – being allowed to wake up slowly, without any threat or an alarm ripping him out of his sleep – but he was grateful for small favors these days. They were rare.   
Reluctantly he opened one eye to the young morning, wondering if he could just doze off for a few more minutes, when the sight of Daryl had a smile tug at the corners of this mouth.   
It had been roughly seven years since the apocalypse had started. Seven years, in which they had managed to survive, together, against all odds. Seven years, in which he and Daryl had made the transition from opponents, to allies, friends and brothers to a happily married couple. And seven years, in which Daryl hadn’t sported a decent haircut or seen a comb for the most part. His hair was way too long by now, the bangs falling into his face half of the day, but Rick had come to love his husband’s unkempt look. Truth of the matter was, he thought it was totally adorable how the long strands stuck into all directions in the mornings and he loved to run his fingers through them. Looking _totally adorable_ was probably not Daryl’s intention, but as long as the archer still saw where he was going at all and kept hitting objects smaller than a barn, Rick had no intention of bringing his husband’s appearances up.

He was just about to lift his hand and have it tenderly run over the other man’s head, when the bedroom door was forcefully pushed open and hit the wall with a violent thud. Rick almost had a heart attack and a rush of adrenalin urged him to reach for his gun, when he felt Daryl’s arm, that had been loosely wrapped over his waist, tighten around him and hold him in place.    
The next second a little curly-headed tornado stormed towards the bed and jumped onto it with a happy squeal. 

        “Moooooorninng!!”

Rick let out the breath he’d been holding and secretly rolled his eyes. Judith! That girl was a force of nature with an endless supply of energy, unlike her poor fathers.   
Just as Rick was about to lift his head, he felt Daryl’s hand give him a light pinch and was surprised to see the archer crack one eye open and barely noticable shake his head ‘no’. Which pretty much translated into “Lie still. Maybe it’ll go away”.  
How long had Daryl been awake? Rick furrowed his brow. He should really start using silent weapons like his husband, because while the older man could still easily tell living people and walkers apart by sound alone, he kept teasing Rick that by now he would probably miss hearing even Bigfoot out there. After years of shooting guns, Rick’s hearing seemed to have taken some serious damage, if he didn’t even hear the pitter-patter of their hyperactive six-year-old, who was mercilessly tugging on their bedcover right now.

        “Get uuuuuppp!”

Daryl stirred and stretched his legs, unseen to Judith winking the one opened eye at Rick, and muttered sleepily:

        “That an earthquake?”

Rick played along and wrapped an arm lazily over Daryl’s side.

        “Nah, not in his area”, he slurred. “Maybe a minor Judiquake. Will pass. Go back to sleep.”

        “Nooo. It’s me!!! Wake up.”

        “Ya hear somethin’?” Daryl muttered, while snuggling up closer to Rick as though they were both still very tired. And because he felt like it.

        “Probably just the wind.”

Judith started slapping her hands on their legs now to get her fathers’ attention.

        “Daddy! Da’y! Come on, wake up _now_!”

        “Ain’t just the wind. ‘s more like a full-blown Judican, Rick”, Daryl said in a fake sleepy voice. “Best stay in bed all day long.” 

He felt Rick suppress a chuckle, when Judith’s patience had clearly worn off and she was crawling mercilessly into the gap between them, small as it was, and tried to squeeze in.

Daryl flinched in fake shock and actually squealed, which had Rick almost crack up.  
         
        “Walker! Rick, I think we got a walker in here! Put it down!” 

        “Oh, one of the smaller ones. They are the worst. Gimme a hand, I think we best …” he reached out to Judith, which had the girl squeal now, “ _tickle_ it to death.”

Simultaneously the two men started tickling their daughter and Judith’s squeal turned into hysteric laughs.   
A moment later a sleepy and tousled looking teenage boy appeared in the doorway and gave them a scowl.

        “Ya’ll gone nuts over here? Ya know what time it is? That noise wakes the dead.”

The two adults froze and cast him a meaningful glance, then Daryl replied, sporting his best deadpan:

        “Honest, Carl, that wasn’t us.” 

The remark had Rick start laughing, with Judith joining in instantly, although she didn’t get the joke at all. 

        “Can we go down now to see if Santa was there?” Judith asked eagerly, which got her the undivided attention of the three men present.

        “Santa?” Rick asked cautiously and saw his daughter roll her eyes.

        “Yeees”, she replied, as though she was talking to someone _way_ younger than she was. “It’s Crissmas.”

        “Christmas.”

        “That’s what I said – Crissmas.”

        “How do you _know_ it’s _Crissmas_?” Carl asked with a frown. “Hell, don’t even know what the _year_ is.”

        “Oh boy”, Judith replied precociously, “you guys don’t know _anything_ , do you? It _is_ Crissmas – because Gabriel said so. And he should know.”

Rick gave a confirmative nod.

        “Uh-huh. After calling Spencer a tremendous shit repeatedly, I’d agree – the man knows.”

        “Rick!” 

Daryl’s chiding was more than half-hearted. Spencer _was_ a tremendous shit. Or rather had been, until the day he apparently did _not_ do better than Rick, and got himself killed.

Carl wasn’t convinced.

        “You’re sure Gabriel got the right day?”

        “Yup”, Judith replied while sitting up and crossing her arms with a stern air on her little face. “He’s got the best sources.”

        “That so?”

        “Absolutely. Aaron told him.”

Carl’s mouth gaped open. 

        “ _Aaron_? And how the heck would Aaron know what date it is?”

        “Easy, silly”, Judith replied cockily, “he knows it’s Crissmas, because _Eric_ said so.”

Rick furrowed his brow.

        “This is candid camera, right? I’m not even gonna ask …”

        “The watch”, Daryl said thoughtfully. “Eric’s got a watch that shows the date, remember? Aaron told me he kept track right from the beginning. For the history books. So we’d know later when it started …”

        “And when it ended”, Rick ended his sentence. “I remember. And it’s a good thing he’s an optimist and kept track.” He smiled at Judith. “So now we know it’s Christmas.”

He sat up and pulled the little girl into his arms, giving her a hearty hug. After placing a kiss on her forehead and wishing her “Merry Christmas”, he released her again and said:

        “Okay then, let’s see if Santa was there.”

        “Yay!!”

Judith started crawling off the bed with eagerly flushed cheeks, when Daryl noticed Rick grow pale and send him a questioning look out of wide eyes.  
_ Was  _ Santa there? He would be officially labeled ‘worst dad of the apocalypse’, if he just sent his daughter downstairs to an empty family room with no tree and no presents, because no one had had the decency to _tell_ him that it was _Crissmas._  
He let out his breath in relief, when he saw Daryl cast him a soothing smile. Obviously “da’y” had things covered. 

Before Rick could even start wondering just what exactly was going on behind his back in this town lately, Daryl nudged him and then swung his legs out of bed. 

        “C’mon, man, Crissmas’s only one day. Get goin’.” 

Curious now, Rick got up, too, and headed to the bathroom, which instantly brought a frown to the three faces around him.

        “Whadda ya doin’?” 

        “Er, take a quick shower? Brush my teeth? You know – use water. You should try that some time”, he teased.

Daryl waved the remark off.

        “Nah, washing up is totally overrated.”

        “That so?”

        “Sure. That constant showerin’ is makin’ yer skin all dry.”

        “At least my skin’s still visible and not covered by layers of dirt.”

        “Better watch what yer sayin’, dude, if ya want something from Santa.”

Rick leaned in and pecked Daryl’s lips despite the fact, that his husband hadn’t seen a toothbrush or water yet that morning.

        “Don’t want anything from _Santa_ ”, he whispered in Daryl’s ear, “so if you wanna unwrap your Christmas present up here later, you may wanna reconsider about showers.”

A smirk played around Daryl’s lips.

        “Huh, since ya seem ta be the expert”, he whispered back, “wanna join me in that shower and show me?” 

        “Show you _what_?” Rick returned the innuendo and they both grinned at each other, when Judith’s voice drew the men’s attention to the little girl.

        “Carl, are dad and da’y talking about _things_ again?” she asked innocently, having the men’s heads whip around, while Carl suppressed a laugh.

        “Probably. And _stuff_ those _things_ are gonna do later.”

        “Carl Dixon!” Rick started, actually blushing. 

Daryl cut him short by giving him a playful slap to his backside, while he headed to the door.

        “Kid’s right, so save it, Rick”, he grinned. “And take that shower later, for Christ’s sake.”

He winked at Judith, crouched to let her climb onto his back and then headed for the stairs with a wide grin on his face.

        “You’re still in your boxers, Daryl”, Rick called after him and had the archer cast him a long look over his shoulder. 

        “So are you. There a dress code ta check out if Santa was there?” he replied with a frown. “Actually, I like ‘em boxers ya got there.”

He suppressed a chuckle.   
Resources were running low, that was a fact, and it got more difficult by the day to still find what they needed. So this wasn’t the time to be choosy and as far as clothing was concerned, nobody gave a damn anymore about colors, matching patterns or right sizes. The really nice things were plundered a long time ago and what was left, well, was what they were wearing these days. Like boxers with big, brightly colored flowers, that had most people’s eyes tear just from looking at them.  

Rick pulled a face.

        “She did that on purpose”, he grumbled. 

        “Who?”

        “Carol. She got me that monstrosity on a run the other day. Maybe she found out we’re feeding the pigs with her cookies.”

Daryl couldn’t help laughing.

        “As long as she ain’t telling people ta go _look_ at the flowers, ‘s okay with me.”

        “Easy for you to say. You’re not putting valuable body parts at risk each time you walk pass our bee-hives in those.”

Daryl laughed even louder with Carl joining in, which triggered Judith to giggle, too, although once again she didn’t quite catch on.

        “Can we go now? Your pants are pretty, dad. Santa would like them, too.”

        “Don’t know, if I like how that sounds”, Daryl muttered, before he winked at Rick and headed down the stairs with the little Judith-monkey on his back. 

 

The moment they walked into the family room, someone calling “Ho-ho-ho” had Daryl freeze and stare at a big man in a red Santa suit.

        “Damn, Eu … startled me, man. Er, Santa”, he stuttered, while casting Eugene a stern look. “Didn’t expect ya ta still be here.” 

He let little Judith slide off his back and cast _Santa_ a scowl that said _“Why the heck_ are _you still here?”,_ while the girl stood in front of the colorfully decorated Christmas tree with wide shiny eyes and her mouth gaped open. 

        “I apologize for the delay”, Santa-Eugene answered sheepishly, while looking from Daryl’s blazing eyes to the happily sparkling ones of little Judith. “I’m afraid there has been an unfortunate incident between Rudolph and a walker”, he tried to come up with an explanation for still being there.

Truth of the matter was, that while he had no problem building and repairing the most complex technical devices, applying a simple set of fairy lights to a Christmas tree without strangling himself or bringing the tree down repeatedly had proven to be far more complicated than he had expected.   
Judith’s startled gasp and the way Daryl was glaring daggers his way, had him realize what he just said.

        “Rudolph won”, he added quickly, ignoring Daryl’s gesture of someone getting their throat cut.

This was definitely not the time to be intimidated by untenable threats. At that moment Rick and Carl appeared behind Daryl and Judith and totally aware of the fact that his current appearance was anything but fit for having guests, Rick tried to hide behind his husband’s back.

Santa made a dismissive gesture, when he noticed.

        “Relax, Rick, I can assure you that the floral design of your underwear does in no way dimish your people’s utmost respect for you and your leadership.” After a short pause he added: “Besides, there’s nothing I haven’t seen yet, I can give you full confirmation on that.”

        “Wanna run that by me again?” Daryl growled in Santa’s direction, before casting a look over his shoulder to Rick. “I want drapes on our bedroom window, man. Told ya, a second floor window ain’t stoppin’ him.” 

He turned to Eugene again. “Ya hear that, _Santa_? We want drapes.”

“I am sorry to inform you, that the christmassy service is only available to underaged persons of good behavior and does not apply to …”

Daryl walked up to him in few large strides, which had Eugen fall quiet instantly, while Rick tried to hide behind Carl’s back now, to very little avail.

        “If I ever catch ya up on our roof or at our window”, Daryl hissed in Santa’s face quietly, so Judith couldn’t hear him, “yer gonna go flyin’ without ‘em reindeer, ya hear me?” 

        “Affirmative.”

        “You’re funny, Santa”, Judith beamed at the big man in the red suit. “You sound a little like my friend Eugene.”

        “Yes, I hear that permanently. We, er, had the same rhetoric teacher.”

Rick covered his face with a hand and shook his head, deciding there and then that there were definitely worse things than having Santa see him in a pair of flowery boxers. He needed coffee. Now. Strong coffee. Lots of it.

        “Well, have you been well-behaved all year?” Eugene addressed Judith.

        “I think so. Was it bad to get tomato sauce all over Carol’s white blouse the other day, when I was over there for spaghetti?”

        “Nope”, Daryl cut in, “that was eatin’ spaghetti the _right_ way and Carol should know better by now than ta wear white clothes on spaghetti Tuesdays. Ain’t on you, sweetheart.” 

Judith nodded.

        “Actually, she said it’s _your_ fault, da’y.”

        “It would appear”, Eugene said, his finger raised chidingly, “as though you have not been well-behaved then, Daryl Dixon. Which leads me back to your previous request for …”

Daryl leaned in and whispered in Eugene’s ear.

        “Yer gonna get us those drapes, _Santa,_ or yer gonna have that stupid beard for dinner.” 

Eugene’s eyes grew large while he just stared at Daryl for a moment. Then he cleared his voice and turned to Judith once again.

        “Very well. I see your overall behavior leaves little to be desired”, he beamed at her, before muttering to himself: “Unlike that of your da’y”.   
“Have you by any chance learned a Christmas song you would like to perform for me?”

        “Yeah, I have. Da’y taught me.”

The archer frowned.

        “I have? Don’t even know a …”

        “Well, you didn’t _really_ teach me. I just heard you sing a nice Crissmas song  in the garage yesterday. Wanna hear it, Santa?”

        “I’d appreciate it.”

          “Oh, Chrissmas tree, oh, Chrissmas tree,  
         the old dick never came to me.  
          Was always good, he couldn’t care less,  
          So, Santa, you can kiss my .. “

Daryl’s hand quickly covering her mouth prevented the rest of the song performance, while Carl cracked up, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. Rick had almost spat his coffee and coughed violently for moment. When he had recovered enough to speak, he cast Daryl a dark look.

        “Thank you so much, da’y. I didn’t even know that verse yet.” 

The older man met his look for a moment, then averted his eyes quickly and lowered his head.

        “ ’m sorry”, he said softly. “’s just, I don’t know no Christmas songs. Ain’t no one ever taught me none and … there was nobody ta sing ‘em to anyway.”

Rick’s anger vaporated and Carl’s laughter stopped instantly. They both cast each other a glance and swallowed hard. There were so many things they had always taken for granted, considered _common knowledge_ or something _everybody once had._ And time and again simple things like this reminded them, that they were wrong. That there were people like Daryl, who even before the apocalypse had been anything but lucky.

        “Judith”, Rick said calmly while he walked over to the couch and sat down. “Wanna learn another Christmas song for Santa?”

She nodded her head eagerly and ran into Rick’s open arms, ready to sit on her dad’s lap and sing some more Christmas carols. Before Rick lifted her up on his knees, he whispered into her ear:

        “Think da’y would like to learn a Christmas carol, too?”

Her curls bounced, when she nodded excitingly once again and turned back around to return to Daryl. He was still crouching on the floor in the same spot where he had stopped Judith’s song performance and seemed to have frozen, staring at a spot before his feet with an idle glance.   
It had been such an incredibly long time since … since no one had taught him nothing but what it meant to be unwanted and unloved. And still the past kept catching up to him time and again.

        “Da’y?”

Little Judy wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a hug pulled him back into the here and now.

        “Daddy’s gonna sing us more Chrissmas carols, so we can learn them.”  
         
        “Lord help us”, Daryl tried to joke, but the sadness in his eyes remained.

        “Don’t you wanna learn Chrissmas songs?” Judith ask disappointed.

        “I’d love to, Li’l Asskicker.” 

He placed a kiss on her unruly curls and stood, casting a glance at Eugene before slowly and kind of awkwardly drawing back. He let himself sink down onto the couch next to Rick, not looking at him, when the younger man nudged his husband’s shoulder playfully and leaned in.

        “Hey, it’s not important. So you never learned a Christmas song – tough shit. There’s probably tons of stuff I don’t know anything about and you could teach me.”

        “Yeah, like what? To drink like a fish or swear like a sailor?” 

A smile spread over Rick’s face.

        “Might come in handy one day.”

His eyebrows raising to his hairline, Daryl slowly turned his head and looked at him.

        “Yer shitting me, right? Besides, this ain’t about not knowin’ no Christmas songs. ‘s about no one ever givin’ a damn ta teach me and never havin’ no Christmas at all.”

        “I know that”, Rick replied gently, wrapping one arm around Daryl’s waist to pull him close. “So thank you. If it wasn’t for you, Judith would never had a Christmas, either. And you even taught her her first Christmas song.”

That remark had a smirk spread over both of their faces.

        “I mean it, Daryl. Whatever we didn’t have or learned in the past is not important anymore. This is the new world and it would be totally boring and senseless, if we all knew the same things. Judith showed you hopscotch the other day, Carl how to skate on those inliners and I’m gonna teach you a Christmas song now. Where would we ever be without your tracking and hunting skills? And you can handle that crossbow and ride a bike.”

        “I could show ya how.”

        “You did. Both almost caused more casulties among our people than the walkers ever did. I heard people demanding warning signs to be put up around our house.” 

This had a genuine smile tug at the corners of Daryl’s mouth. Before he could reply though, Carl’s steps on the stairs heading down and returning to the family room caught their attention. They hadn’t even noticed that the boy had left the room and now he was walking up to them with their bathrobes slung over his arm.   
Rick crinched once again.   
This was another good example on how the _nice_ things had long gone to some fortunate people out there, while they had had to settle for what was left. Like cotton candy pink bathrobes.   
He still remembered the day Glenn had brought them back from a run and had handed them over with a suppressed grin on his face, while Daryl had glared daggers his way.

        “Over ma dead body, man”, the archer had growled back then. “Ain’t gonna wear that crap and run about lookin’ like _Ma Li’l Pony_.”

Actually, Judith saying how pretty they were had him give in and wear that bathrobe after all. They had found out later, that it wasn’t the color at all that had little Judy think they were pretty – she couldn’t have cared less for girly pink. It was the mere fact that they were _matching_ that in her eyes made them perfect for her two dads – and ever since she mentioned this to Daryl, he even wore that gruesome robe with pride.  
In fact, Daryl had started to match all of his clothes to Rick’s a long time ago. Whether that was intentional or not, Rick couldn’t tell. He had never questioned his husband about it. But he liked it and the mere fact that Daryl obviously meant to show the world that they belonged together, filled him with joy and pride.  
And the world _had_ noticed. More than once people returning from runs had made sure to bring a matching set of shirts or pants for them – or hot pink bathrobes. 

But when it was between a pink bathrobe and brightly colored boxers with _floral design_ , the choice was easy and with a grateful nod Rick reached for the robe.   
An air of surprise spread over his face, when he saw Carl’s eyes on Daryl, not on him and it dawned on Rick, that his ridiculous underwear was not the reason for his son to get their robes.   
He remembered how Daryl had almost walked backwards just a moment ago to go sit on the couch next to him, cautious not to let Eugene see his back. And the scars.   
It was easy to forget they were there and how they got there, at least for Rick. He had seen them so many times over the years and Daryl wasn’t self-conscious around him or the children any longer. But he never let anyone else see them and Rick was almost certain that no one of _the group_ knew they were there, not even Carol, let alone the rest of Alexandria. Daryl would never forget they were there and how they got there. Never.

With a grateful nod Daryl took the piece of clothing from Carl and put it on with a relieved sigh. Eugene seeing him in his boxers he couldn’t have cared less about, but the possibilty of him noticing those scars had made him feel vulnerable, naked, exposed. He did not want any questions. He did not want pity.

 

When she had grown old enough to realize that those marks on her da’y’s back were in fact scars, little Judith had ask him about them once. And although he was hesitant to talk about that part of his past, he didn’t mind her childhood curiousity. She wasn’t going to judge. Wasn’t going to think him weak, a victim, someone she needed to feel sorry for. This was her da’y, someone she loved and she just wanted to know what happened. Simple as that.  
He had crouched down in front of her, pulled in a deep breath and had given her an honest answer.

        “There was a man”, he had started, his voice not as steady as he would have liked it to be, “a long time ago. He … he beat me.”

There was no easy way to say this and he wasn’t going to lie to her. She was young, but she wasn’t dumb. Sooner or later she would know the truth, and the truth was what she deserved. This wasn’t a world for putting a gloss on things anymore. 

        “He beat you?” she had said with wide blue eyes. “Why? Were you bad?”

        “No. I guess he just didn’t like me too much.” 

        “Oh. Does it still hurt, da’y?”

        “Sometimes. But not there.” He had pointed to his heart. “In here.”

She had leaned forward and had placed a _make it all better_ kiss onto the spot he had pointed to, effectively wiping her chocolate-smeared mouth on his shirt that way. He had never told anyone, not even Rick, but he still kept that shirt with Judith’s chocolate kiss in the back of his drawer as a constant reminder of all the love he was getting in this family. And whenever that pain in the center of his chest threatened to torture him again, he thought of that shirt, of the kiss, of his little daughter and of Rick and Carl – and this in fact did make is _all better_ each and every time.

        “Who was that bad man?” little Judith had asked him.

He had hesitated a moment, unwilling and unable to say the word, but in the end he had anyway.

        “Ma dad”, he had croaked out. 

She had looked at him with plain shock on her little face.

        “I know, what yer thinkin’, sweatheart, but not everybody’s as lucky as you and Carl ta have a daddy who loves ‘em as much as yer dad does.”

Judith had thought about that for a moment. Then she had wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck to hug him, while she had whispered in his ear:

        “We are even twice as lucky then, because we’ve got two daddys who love us.”

She had placed a hearty smooch on his cheek and then pulled back, standing in front of him with her arms crossed and a pout on her lips.

        “You know, I think your dad’s a jackass.”

With that said she had turned around to head out to the playground, her da’y’s laughter accompanying her on her way out. 

  
“Now, ready for that Christmas song?”

Rick’s voice derailed Daryl’s train of thought and pulled him out of his dark memories back to a brighter place.             
          
         “Sure thing.”

Carl shrugged and sat down on the armrest of the couch next to his father, while Judith, after hesitating a moment, climbed up on Daryl’s lap and snuggled up to him.   
She liked sitting on her da’y lap even more than on her dad’s. Not because she favored one over the other. She loved them both the same. But there was _more_ of Daryl to snuggle up to. His chest and his shoulders were broader, the muscles made his body softer … or maybe that was the little tummy he had grown over the years. And sometimes he would hum a song to her, real quiet so no one would hear, but his deep voice had a resonance that soothed her instantly and made her feel like she was being wrapped into a soft and warm blanket. 

“Okay, which one?” Rick asked, casting his son a questioning look. “I always liked _Silver Bells._ ” 

“Mom liked _Silver Bells_ , too”, Carl answered softly in a sad inflection. He breathed in deep and then straightened up, adding:   
“But the lyrics are stupid these days. You know – busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style and shoppers rushing home with their treasures and stuff. Jude’s not gonna _buy_ anything in all her life. And there ain’t any busy sidewalks or decorated stores and …”

He broke off and swallowed thickly against a lump in his throat. Sometimes it was still hard to bear thinking of the world as it used to be, and he almost envied his sister for having been born into this one and not knowing it any other way.

         “You’re right”, Rick cut in quickly, when he noticed the boy’s distress. “Maybe we best find something funnier. Which one do you like?”

         “ _The Twelve Days of Christmas_. That _is_ funny, especially when we like take turns singing the verses.”

Rick cast him a kind of sad smile, remembering other Christmas Eves when he had sat in front of the Christmas tree in their family room with Lori and Shane, Shane’s current girlfriend and a very young Carl and had sung _The Twelve_ _Days of Christmas_ together. The next moment the sad smile melted into a happy one, when he turned his head and looked straight into Daryl’s eyes.   
Those Christmases back then, they had been good ones, when he and Lori had still been happy with each other and Shane had still been his friend. But this Christmas now would be way better despite the apocalypse, because now he had the love of his life right here with him and each time he looked into those eyes, he felt like the Grinch, with his heart swelling two sizes. With Daryl by his side, every day was Christmas. 

         “Good choice, Carl”, he agreed, “so here goes. Ready?”

And then Carl and him together started singing the first three verses, soon joined by Eugene, who sang the loudest of them all. By the end of the third verse, Daryl and Judith were both staring at either one of the three singers in turns, as though they had grown a second head.   
But while little Judith was in awe about how perfect a singing voice Santa actually had, especially in contrast to her brother’s, the frown on Daryl’s face had increased with each new added Christmas present.

         “Hold it!”, he stopped them after the three french hens and pulled a face.  
“Yer shitting me, right? Ya made that crap up. What kind a’ stupid presents ‘s that? A couple a’ fuckin’ birds?”

         “That would be _calling_ birds, Daryl, and they’re in verse four”, Rick said dryly. 

         “Ya _are_ shitting me. ‘kay, ‘em birds make a nice Christmas dinner, but other than that – who’d wanna get any stupid presents like that? C’mon, make it something useful here, guys.”

Rick pulled a face.

         “This is a Christmas song, Daryl, not a list for a run. Those are the lyrics, so you wanna learn it the right way now or not?”

         “Or not”, the archer grumbled, but he gestured to Rick and Carl nevertheless to continue for all he cared.

By verse number seven the song was interruped once more.

         “That does it! Who wrote the lyrics to that song – the birdman of Alcatraz? Partridge, doves, hens, birds in general, geese and now swans … ‘em fat swans ain’t even gonna fit in no oven, man. Forget it. Ain’t gonna sing no bullshit like that.”

         “Right”, Judith crossed her arms before her chest and cast her father and brother a stern glance, “ain’t gonna sing no bullshit like that.” 

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

         “Daryl … “

         “Sorry”, the older man muttered, “ain’t ma fault we got a smart daughter, who picks up stuff quickly.” 

“You know, dad”, Carl cut in quickly, before Daryl’s choice of words in front of his six-year-old sister became an issue, “those lyrics do suck and you know it. You keep saying all the time _that was in the old world_ , so why not have some new lyrics to that song that fit these days better? C’mon, lets have some cool presents there.”

“Right”, Daryl agreed, “keep yer stupid partridge. I want a crossbow, man.”

Rick frowned when he gave this some thought.

         “A _crossbow_ in a pear tree?” 

         “What’s ma crossbow doin' in a pear tree? Yer nuts?”

         “It needs to rhym to _‘my true love gave to me’_ , so …

         “If ma _true love_ gave me some damn birds for Christmas and put ma crossbow in a pear tree, that’d be a divorce, dude.”

Carl started to giggle helplessly, which earned him another stern glance from his father, so he composed himself quickly.

         “Cool as can be?” he offered after a moment of thinking. “ _A crossbow cool as can be –_ that ryhms to _my true love gave to me._ ”

Rick’s eyes widened, wondering if the rewriting of Christmas lyrics could be considered the eighth deadly sin, while Daryl’s eyes lit up visibly.

         “Perfect, Carl, we’re getting there. C’mon, the other eleven verses, too. I got ma crossbow, so let’s make the rest useful stuff or somethin’ our group would like. Ain’t no one got no use for two turtle doves, so whadda we got in pairs?”

         “Your robes, da’y. They are two and they are useful and they are pretty.” 

         “That’s debatable”, Rick muttered next to her, but was totally ignored.

Daryl hugged the girl on his lap close for a moment and nodded his agreement. 

         “ _Two matching robes_ it is, Jude. Forget ‘em turtle doves. And ‘em three french hens, too. Ain’t gonna have no poultry in ma Christmas song.”

Carl’s stomach growling in that moment reminded them, that they hadn’t had breakfast yet and with a grin the boy suggested:

         “Three french _toast._ Definitely better than ‘em hens.”

         “Yummy! Oh, yes, Carl, yummy food needs to be in our song”, Judith beamed at her brother.

Something sparked up in Carl’s eye and he said eagerly:

         “The twelfth day is mine. Claimed! I want _twelve ounces of pudding_.”

This had a grin spread over Rick’s face, although he didn’t appreciate the use of the word ‘claimed’ in Daryl’s presence. But this rewriting of those lyrics started to be fun. 

         “Too bad that song only has twelve verses, huh?”

Carl returned the grin.

         “If you wanna make it 112, I don’t mind.”

         “Ain’t fair”, little Judith tossed in with a pout on her face. “You can’t just claim the last verse for yourself, Carl. We were only at four.”

         “First come, first served, Judy”, Carl answered with a shrug.

         “But I want chocolate. Lots of it. Can I have the twelve, please, Carl?”

         “Nope. Twelve is taken, sorry.”

Tears were welling in the big blue eyes of the little girl and for a moment a contrite air came to her brother’s face. Then he suggested with a sparkle in his eye:

         “You can still have eleven, Judith. _Eleven pounds of chocolate_ , how does that sound?” 

“Still not as much as twelve”, she said stubbornly.

Carl cast Daryl a meaningful look and a frown spread over the archer’s face for a moment. Then he understood and leaned down to his daughter, whispering in her ear:

         “Don’t tell Carl, but eleven pounds is actually _more_ than twelve ounces.”

She looked up to him with wide questioning eyes. _Really?_ Daryl nodded with a conspiratorial smile.   
Judith leaned back against his chest with a victorious smile on her lips, quite happy about the outcome of this little sibling competition, while Daryl cast Carl an appreciative look, silently mouthing _Thank you_ to him. 

         “Okay”, Rick said, clapping his hands once, “four. Any suggestions?”   
          
         “Squirrels”, Daryl said matter-of-factly. 

         “You already got your crossbow.”

         “Wanna have dinner on Christmas? We tossed all ‘em birds and I ain’t gonna live on pudding and chocolate.”

For a moment he expected both Judith and Carl to protest that pudding and chocolate were their presents and they wouldn’t share, but they kept quiet. Daryl had his eyes wander from one to the next and was deeply impressed.   
He remembered going to bed hungry more than once when he was a kid, not least of all because Merle had had more than his share of what was edible around their dad’s house. Maybe these times were in fact better than the old ones in more than one respect. 

Rick giving a relenting sigh ended his train of thought. 

         “Alright, squirrels. But that doesn’t match the rhythm.”

         “Gutted squirrels?” 

         “Oh brother. What's next? Dead walkers?” he said sarcastically, which to his utmost dismay actually triggered approving nods by both Carl and Daryl. 

         “You gotta be kidding me.”

They continued finding new verses for their song. Daryl insisted on _five crossbow bolts,_ for a crossbow without bolts was entirely useless. And Eugene hurried to suggest _six generators_ and could barely be stopped explaining about the importance of a sufficient number of operable technical devices to keep their living standards to an appropriate level.   
Once Eugene had his share in their Christmas song, they tried to come up with things for people that didn’t have their share yet, and so _seven piles of cookies, eight cans of soda_ and _nine Python bullets_ were added to the list. 

They got stuck on ten. Judith and Carl were bouncing ideas back and forth that were mostly candy and not very useful, while Eugene kept suggesting _ten sacks of sorghum,_ for which Daryl tossed his pack of smokes at his head. Other ideas like _ten crosstip screwdrivers_ or _ten luster terminals_ earned him a volley of boos from Judith and Carl.  
While the discussion was still underway, Daryl leaned over to Rick and whispered in his ear:

         “Should we make it _ten bottles of lube_?”

He suppressed a grin, when he saw Rick’s ears turn a deeper shade of red. It was actually easy to have Rick blush and sometimes Daryl just couldn’t resist. It was just too damn adorable. 

         “Daryl!” Rick hissed back. “We most certainly not gonna have _that_ in our Christmas song.”

Daryl bit back a laugh.

         “I was thinking of a present for Aaron and Eric”, he said innocently.

         “Get ‘em some socks”, Rick commented dryly, which had Daryl laugh out loud after all. 

         “Boo!!” his sock suggestion was commented by Judith and Carl, before the siblings continued their bickering. 

         “Didn’t get a boo for my suggestion”, Daryl whispered teasingly to Rick.

“No _lube_ in our kids’ Christmas carol.”

         “As long as we got it in the drawer of yer nightstand, fine with me.”

The younger man sighed audibly.

“You’re gonna be the end of me one day, you know that.”

“Ah, come on, Rick, I hope it’ll take more than ten bottles for that.” 

He turned back to Eugene and the kids, chuckling to himself when Rick’s ears once again turned a deep pink. 

For quite a while they were unable to come up with any suitable item for the number ten. They had all of them there gotten their share and had come up with ideas for some of their closest friends, save for Aaron and Eric, but they got stuck on the ten. Since Daryl’s suggestion was blown out of the water, same as Rick’s socks, they tried to come up with something everybody would benefit from.   
In the end verse number ten ran _ten put down walkers_ , although Rick was anything but thrilled to have walkers in that song after all. But, if there was anything every living soul these days would benefit from, it was one less walker in this world, one less threat. And ten of them was even ten times better. Carl was almost inclined to offer up his twelve. Almost. 

After all twelve verses were decided on, they devided them among themselves and enthusiasically sang their new song, the first verse all of them together with Daryl and Judith giving that one extra volume.  

         “And a crossbow cool as can be”, Judith almost yelled, her cheeks flushed and a wide grin on her face.

She clapped her hands and bounced on Daryl’s knees like a rubber ball.

         “That was a great song! And I think I like the crossbow even better than the eleven pounds of chocolate.”

         “That’s a draw”, Daryl replied and winked at her. “Why’s there no bike in our song?”

         “Because”, Rick answered with a sideglance, “you already got the crossbow _and_ the bolts _and_ the squirrels. What did I get? A couple of lousy bullets.”

         “Yer not gonna call ‘em lousy as soon as yer out there ta put down ‘em ten walkers”, Daryl teased.

         “I like the crossbow better”, Judith said suddenly, a thoughtful air on her face.  “I don’t like the loud bang of the guns. Hurts in my ears.”   
She nodded to herself.   
         “And I like the bike.” She made a flying gesture with her hand. “Yaaaaay! That was fun the other day, da’y.” 

When Rick’s head whipped around to him, Daryl knew what kind of song he’d be hearing any second now and it wasn’t a Christmas song. Of that one he even knew all 99 verses. He had heard them often enough.   
Verse No. 2 pretty much ran “Do never let Judith ride on that bike with you”. Right after “Don’t let Judith touch that crossbow”.   
Unfortunately little Judy had a mind of her own and there was barely anything that fascinated her more than the bike and the crossbow. 

         “Can I have a word with you in private, _da’y_? Rick pressed out. 

         “Ah, c’mon, Rick – ya don’t need ta blow a fuse ‘cause a’ that. I went real slow, just once around the pond, ‘s all.” 

Rick stood with an angry frown and pointed to the door. 

         “Outside. _Now_.”

Daryl looked him up and down with a meaningful air on his face and Rick caught on instantly.

         “Fine. Kitchen then.”

With a sigh, the older man lifted Judith off his knees and followed his husband over to the kitchen, wisely refraining from pointing out that it was an open kitchen and thus barely more _private_ than the couch had been.

A voice right behind them had them turn on their heels. 

         “I deeply regret to interrupt”, Eugene started, when he was cut short by Rick instantly.

         “Then don’t. And go back over there, _Santa._ This is a private conversation.”

         “I respect that, but my current attire apparently was designed for Arctic climates and my antiperspirant is failing me, so I’d appreciate, if you were brief here. Besides, I believe my job description includes a fair share of milk and cookies, which I haven’t received yet.”

He cast them a glance, as if he would have liked to add “Period”, but unfortunately there wasn’t an equivalent term in his language to say that.   
With an eyeroll Rick opened the fridge, poured Eugene a glass of milk and then reached towards the breadbox, when Daryl slamming the lid down almost got his fingers jammed.

         “No. No way”, Daryl said sternly. “Not Denise’s oatcake.” He nodded to a jar. “The man said _cookies._ ”

Rick noticed the corners of Daryl’s mouth twitch and caught on immediately. Grinning he put some of the cookies onto a plate and handed them over to Eugene along with the glass of milk.

         “The pigs are gonna be sad”, he whispered to Daryl, when _Santa_ walked back over to the couch after giving him a thankful nod. 

Then he remembered why they were in the kitchen at all and his smile crumbled.

         “Now, about Judith riding on your bike …”

         “Rick, save it. I heard ya. You’ve been bitchin’ ta me a gazillion times ‘bout ya not wantin’ Jude ta ride the bike or touch the crossbow, but she’s crazy ‘bout both a’ ‘em.” 

         “She is six years old!”

         “How old was Carl when ya had about the same conversation with Lori ‘bout him havin’ a gun? Remember what ya said ta her back then? Ya pretty much defended yer decision, ‘cause kids in this world need ta be able ta defend themselves, and that includes bein’ able ta handle a gun. Or a crossbow for that matter. And a bike is fast, needs less gas, is easy ta hide, can move in places that are too jammed for cars and it’s nimble – it’s a way better vehicle than a car. Ya know, I’m right, Rick!” 

         “She is six years old!” the younger man repeated helplessly, at a loss for arguments. 

Of couse he knew that Daryl was right. That didn’t mean he liked it. 

         “Hey”, Daryl said gently, placing one hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Ya trusted Shane back then ta teach Carl, keep him safe. And he did. So trust me, too, now. Ya know how much I love Asskicker and I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen ta her.” 

Rick looked his husband deep in the eyes, obviously fighting an inner battle with himself, before he nodded hesitatingly. 

         “Try not ta let anything happen to our neighbors, either”, he said, trying to soothe his nerves in the awkward attempt to joke.

Daryl pulled him into a hug and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, while a smile was tugging at his lips.

         “They’re tough. They survived _you_ and yer attempts ta handle the bike and crossbow after all.”

         “Yeah, and your poor performance on those inline skates. The Clutterbucks’ mailbox is still crooked and Ethel seems to be torn between laughing and crying each time she sees you.” 

         “Don’t get me started”, Daryl replied. 

Rick knew what he was aiming at – his sorry attempt at a striptease in their wedding night, that personally Rick would have liked to never be reminded of again in his life. But obviously he would never hear the end of it.

         “Hey, you guys”, Carl called over to them from where he was sitting next to his sister on the couch. “Is Santa gonna hand out any presents, too, or just munch the pigs’ cookies?”

They ignored Eugene’s coughing and after Daryl had pecked Rick’s lips quickly, they walked back over to their children. There was one present sitting underneath the Christmas tree, neatly wrapped in colorful paper that read “Happy Hanukkah”. 

Eugene washed down what Carl had referred to as _the pigs’ cookies_ with the rest of his milk and reached for the package, holding it out to Carl. 

         “My apologies. We seem to be a little short on appropriate wrapping material.”

         “No sweat, Santa. It’s the thought that counts – and the bow is nice. You sure this is for me?”

Eugene cast Daryl a quick questioning look and saw the archer give a barely noticable nod.

         “Affirmative. I will simply assume, you’ve been good all year and we best refrain from any more song performances. Merry Christmas.”

         “Thanks.”

Carl reached for his present and saw out of the corner of his eye, how little Judith dipped her head. She had noticed, of course, that there was only one present sitting underneath the tree, but she pressed her lips together in the brave attempt to fight the stinging sensation in her eyes. Carl had killled lots of walkers this year and he had played with her and did lots of duties in the guard tower with Enid lately. He deserved to get a present more than she did. 

         “Wanna help me unwrap it?” Carl said gently to the little girl and kneeled on the floor in front of the couch.

         “Nah, this is yours, Carl.” She shook her head and forced a smile. “You helped more than I did this year, so you deserve it more.”

         “Hey.” Rick was by her side in a flash and lifted her onto his arm, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “You helped lots yourself this year. We couldn’t run this place without you, sweetheart.”

Again she shook her head.

         “I’m just little. I can’t kill walkers or go on runs like Carl.”

         “Not yet, but you helped Denise in the infirmary when she had patients, right? You handed her band-aids and bandages. And you helped Maggie take care of little Hershel and once in a while I saw you put a letter in the Clutterbucks’ mailbox, so it’s not Sunday for James each and every day.”

He cast a helpless glance to Daryl and to his utmost relief, saw the archer make a soothing gesture. Daryl leaned in and whispered something in Judith’s ear, that had her eyes light up and a smile spread over her face.

         “Really, da’y?” 

         “Promise.”

         “You can keep your present, Carl. Thanks. Da’y says, Santa is gonna have one for me, too.” 

         “Santa would have appreciated to be informed up front”, Eugene commented dryly, which had Daryl wish he had picked up his pack of smokes, so he had something to toss at him again. 

Luckily Judith urging Carl to open his gift now, drew everybody’s attention to the boy.  
He didn’t take long to open it. Simply ripped the paper off and opened the box inside eagerly. The next moment he retrieved a knife, apparently a used one, but it had been polished and sharpened and his initials were engraved in the handle. He recognized it instantly. 

         “That’s yours”, he said to Daryl with wide eyes. 

         “Nah, ‘s yers. See, got yer initials on the handle.” 

Carl cocked his head, which had a smile flash over Daryl’s face. No doubt this was Rick’s son. And he knew what it meant: _Cut the crap._

         “Know you’ve been admirin’ it for a while”, Daryl said softly. “Yer old one’s for kids. Ya need a new one and this … well, I’ve had it for a while and put quite a few walkers down with it.”

         “He did”, Rick said thoughtfully. “More than I can count to save my life.” 

The two men exchanged a long look and Carl understood that this wasn’t just _any_ knife. And it was even more than Daryl’s knife, that he had in fact admired more than once. This was a legacy. A weapon that had seen one of his dads risk his life to save the other, which probably made it the most special knife in this walker infested world.   
And it was just handed down from father to son. 

         “Thank you”, Carl said overwhelmed. “This is … it’s … “

Words failed him, but Daryl understood him perfectly well. He had never needed many words to communicate and he was good in understanding people’s thoughts and emotions without them actually saying anything, either.

         “Can I see mine now?” Judith asked impatiently.

She had thought about asking Santa how he had gotten her da’y’s knife and why he had given it to Carl now without bringing Daryl a new one, but then she had dismissed the idea. Santa probably knew best, otherwise he wouldn’t be in charge of handing out presents to all the children. Just like her dad was in charge of running this town. Because he was the best for the job, no doubt in her mind. 

         _“If only I knew”,_ Eugene couldn’t help thinking and broke out in cold sweat, when Daryl lifted Judith from Rick’s arm and said:

         “I think Santa’s got a li’l larger present for ya, that didn’t fit underneath the tree. C’mon, I show ya.” 

With that said he headed to the door, regardless of the fact that Rick and he were still in their bathrobes, and walked over to the garage with a frowning husband, their teenage son and Santa in tow.   
Rick had a very bad feeling settle in the pit of his stomach when Daryl put Judith down and opened the garage. The next moment his jaw hit the ground, while Judith ran into the garage with an almost hysteric shriek, the biggest smile imaginable on her face.

         “I got a bike!!” she screamed. “Carl, look, look. My very own bike! And … oh, oh, oh, a crossbow, too!!!!!! 

Rick stared into the garage as though it was the gate to hell, and maybe it was. Next to Daryl’s Honda sat a way smaller bike, one that seemed to have been designed especially for a child. And on its back sat a miniature crossbow.

Judith was totally over the moon and ran several rounds around her present, testing each button and handle and running her little hand tenderly over the seat and the crossbow.

Daryl watched her with a wide smile on his face, just as happy about her joy than she was herself, when he noticed Rick’s icy stare and the paleness of his face. Cautiously he approached his partner and stood quietly in front of him, waiting. No doubt, Rick was going to have his say in this matter.

         “You should have told me”, the younger man said after a moment. “I thought we were talking about you taking her on a little ride around the pond once in a while. Not about her riding her own bike.” 

         “I got her a helmet. Those bikes were made for kids, Rick, and I’ll teach her how ta ride it. We’re gonna go slowly, I promise. That store I found it in … they still had all the kids stuff left.” He swallowed hard. “I guess hardly anyone still needs things for children these days.” 

He pointed to a small helmet sitting on a rack, leather gloves Judith’s size, as well as knee and elbow pads. 

         “She’s gonna wear all a’ ‘em stuff till she knows how ta handle the bike.”

Rick nodded hesitatingly. 

         “And I guess that’s a crossbow for kids as well?”

         “Yeah. Same thing. Guess no one wanted that, either.” 

The younger man watched his daughter hop up and down excitedly, her eyes shining like never before and repeatedly tugging on her brother’s sleave, going “Look, Carl, look what Santa got me.”  
The next moment she turned on her heels and ran towards Daryl with widely spread arms and was caught and swung around by her da’y the next moment, both of them laughing.   
When he stopped swinging her around, she wrapped her legs around his waist and said enthusiastically:  
          
         “Did you see what Santa brought me, da’y?”

         “Sure. Looks like you’ve been an extremly good girl, Asskicker.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “But I think ya missed the best part.”

         “There’s more?”

         “Oh my God”, Rick muttered next to them, dreading the worst, although he couldn’t imagine how it could possible _get_ any worse than it already was.

Daryl carried Judith over to where her helmet and the other accessories were sitting and pulled out another neatly wrapped package. 

         “Santa thought you should have something to unwrap, too.”

         “Thank you, Santa!”

         “Welcome”, Eugene answered, although he hadn’t had anything to do with these presents and hadn’t the slightest clue what was inside of the latest one. 

And personally he couldn’t have cared less. The mere fact that he had been sweating in his costume for hours had him expect about two inches of water in his boots by now, and the only thing he would have liked to see getting unwrapped was _him._

         “If you’d excuse me now”, he addressed the Dixon family. “I think, my assistance is not needed here any longer and I … uhm, need to see to the reindeer being fed.” 

         “I wouldn’t mind some breakfast, either”, Carl commented instantly. 

He still was thin as a beanstalk, but he was a teenage boy and his appetit could compete with that of a pregnant woman any day. 

         “Thanks, man”, Daryl called over to _Santa_ from where he was crouching next to Judith, when the little girl ran over to the red-clothed man and wrapped her arms around his legs.

         “Thank you for all the nice presents, Santa. Will you come back next year?” 

         “That would depend on your behavior throughout …”

A kick to his foot had him fall quiet in midsentence and cast a stern look at Rick. When he saw the leader cock his head, Eugene just swallowed. He was the smartest person in this town and he was able to identify a clear warning when he saw it. And when Rick cocked his head, that _was_ a clear warning. 

         “I am quite positive to see you again next year, Judith”, he said quickly and then turned to head down the street, before anyone expected him to have any reindeer fly.

Happily Judith returned to her waiting present and opened it cautiously. Unlike Carl, she didn’t rip the paper, but pulled off the sticky tape carefully, which had the three men watch her antsy. When she finally opened the gift, her eyes grew large as saucers once again.

It was a vest, just like Daryl’s, and it even had the same white angel wings applied to its back. It must have been the most beautiful piece of clothing she had ever had.

         “C’mon, let’s see if it fits”, Daryl said, almost more excited than Judith was.

When the little girl stood in front of her family, proudly showing herself off in her brandnew vest, a wide smile finally spread over Rick’s face as well.   
Athough there were still alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, he did trust Daryl.   
The archer would make sure Judith would be safe and seeing all this joy on the little girl’s face was totally worth the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. That would resolve as soon as she was going to ride that bike and shoot the crossbow professionally, but the joy this was giving her, that would hopefully never resolve. 

         “Looks cool, Judy”, Carl said with an approving thumbs up, “but can we go get some breakfast now? I’m starving.” 

         “Go ahead”, Rick said to them, “we’ll be right there.” 

Carl cast them a knowing look and placed both hands on his sister’s shoulders to gently push her towards the house.

         “Let’s go, Judith. It’s gonna get schmaltzy in here now.”

         “Damn, I want my smokes”, Daryl muttered under his breath, once again at a lack for something to toss. And he did want a smoke, too.

The moment Carl and Judith were out of sight, Rick pulled Daryl into his arms and kissed him ardently, holding him close almost crushingly. 

         “Thank you”, he said breathlessly when he finally released Daryl again. “I’ve never seen our kids so happy. This was probably the best Christmas Carl ever had and it was Judith’s first …”

         “Mine, too”, Daryl said quietly, but this time he said it with a smile.

Rick ran the back of his hand tenderly over his husbands cheek, before he pulled back.  
He walked over to the miniature bike and crossbow and circled them slowly, Daryl following on his heels. A frown appeared on Rick’s face suddenly.

         “We just had that talk about this stuff like an hour ago. What would you have done, if I’d said ‘no’?

Daryl looked at him quietly for a long moment, then he leaned in and unexpectantly pecked his husband’s lips once again.

         “’No’ was not an option. I knew ya were gonna see things ma way.” 

         “You don’t say. And how’s that?”

         “’cause yer smart. And I ‘s right. Simple as that.” 

Rick couldn’t helping laughing out loud about this intriguing logic. 

         “Let’s go get some breakfast”, he said with a grin.

They headed to the garage door to walk back over to the house, when Rick stopped once more. 

         “Where did you find a vest with those angel wings?”

         “I didn’t. Same store that had the bike and all the other kids’ stuff, also had the vest. Carol helped with the wings.”

Rick’s eyebrows moved up.

         “Carol knew about _this_ , too?”

Daryl had the decency to look slightly contrite while he shrugged.

         “I can’t sew, man. And I wanted ‘em wings on Asskicker’s vest. Carol said, if her bein’ filled in pissed ya off, I should tell ya that she liked me first and is allowed ta do things with me behind yer back.” 

He suppressed a smirk, which did not go unnoticed by Rick.

         “Tell her, you’re only allowed to do things, if _I_ am things.” 

Daryl almost broke out laughing, but managed to keep a straight face.

         “C’mon, Rick, ya know I ain’t talkin' ‘bout _those_ things. We was just goin' behind yer back, lyin' 'n' keepin’ secrets from ya, ‘s all.” 

Rick pressed his lips together in a desperate attempt on his part not to laugh.

         “Okay. If that’s all”, he finally croaked out, before they both burst out laughing. 

They left the garage and Rick pulled the gate close behind them. He wrapped his arm around Daryl’s waist, who mirrored the gesture instantly and together they walked back to the house.

         “’m sorry I didn’t get ya anything”, Daryl said quietly when they reached the door. “It ain’t that easy no more findin' stuff out there, and I ‘s lookin' for somethin' special.”

Rick turned to him and cupped his cheek with a loving smile on his face.

         “I _have_ something special”, he said gently. “Could’t get any better than that.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Daryl’s mouth.

         “In that case, why don’t I wear a bow later?” He combed his fingers through Rick’s curls. “Nothin' _but_ the bow.” 

Laughing he disappeared into the house to join Carl and Judith for breakfast, while Rick followed a step behind him, his ears a deeper shade of red.  


	2. Art Work

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=25hz3v8)

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing all of you **MERRY CHRISTMAS AND ALL THE BEST FOR THE NEW YEAR!**


End file.
